Strange, Sweet
by need not
Summary: There have always been rumors surrounding Shiz Academy for Gifted Girls. When Glinda Arduenna is accepted there, she finds that some of the rumors just might be true—rumors about the mysterious figure who haunts the school...
1. Chapter 1

**Chapter One**

There have always been whispers surrounding Shiz Academy for Gifted Girls. Whispers like the third floor is haunted, or a woman's shadow appears in the clock tower window late at night, or if you set foot into the passageways below the school you'll never come out again.

Most of them are untrue.

This one, though? This whisper?

Pay attention, now.

This one is true.

* * *

Glinda Arduenna craned her neck to stare out the windows of her carriage. The sky outside was gray, dark clouds hanging heavily overhead. It looked like rain. A summer storm.

Oz, she hoped it wasn't. She was already late, and a storm would only slow the carriage more. The last thing she wanted was to make a spectacle of herself walking into Shiz.

She pulled her shawl tighter around her shoulders. Her Ama couldn't even come to see her off; a bad fall had caused her to delay the trip. And Glinda's parents certainly weren't going to see her off either; that's what Ama Clutch had been for.

At least her driver wasn't bothering with small talk. He'd merely nodded when she said where she was going, and Glinda suspected he'd driven plenty of young, ambitious women along this route.

How many he'd driven back, she didn't want to ask.

That was one of the many rumors about Shiz—everyone knew it was competitive; the only serious conservatory for the arts in the Emerald City, and the only one for women in all of Oz. Getting in alone was a struggle, but the real task was staying in. Whispers floated around of girls who couldn't take the pressure and left in the middle of the night so as not to disgrace their families.

Glinda shivered. She wouldn't leave. She knew that. No matter how difficult it got. She had fought tooth and nail to be sent to Shiz, the only woman from Gillikin to be accepted in the last twenty years. Her spellwork had been rusty, she knew; and she also knew that the main reason she'd been accepted was on account of her voice. It was all anyone talked about back home.

Little did they know her voice wasn't the only reason she'd applied to Shiz. She'd flipped through the glossy pages of the brochure so many times they'd become matte, the oils from her fingers wearing them as she traced the lines of what she really wanted to study. The brochure was tightly tucked at the bottom of her suitcase, a reminder of why she was there. A reminder to not fail.

The carriage pulled up in front of the gates to the school, and the driver stopped. Glinda stepped outside and wordlessly took her trunk from the driver, giving him a small nod as she passed him a coin for a tip.

"Will you be needing anything else?"

"No, thank you," she said. She glanced up at his face and had to fight back a gasp.

He was an Ape. A Chimpanzee, if she was being more accurate. Oz, she hadn't known—and if her parents had...

"I'm sorry," she said instinctively, though for what she was apologizing, she did not know.

"It's quite all right."

"What's your name?"

The Chimp blinked at her. "Chistery."

"I... how many girls do you drive here?" Glinda asked. The shock of seeing an Animal and her nervousness about being at Shiz had made her bold.

"Too many, Miss Glinda."

"How many do you drive back?"

"Ah, that's the real question isn't it?" He smiled at her. "Too many, as well."

Thunder crackled above them, and Glinda flinched. Chistery handed her her trunk.

"I would hate," he said, "to drive you from this place. Be careful here, Miss Glinda. Not everything is as it seems. If you're going to survive Shiz—and I do hope you do—don't take everything here at face value."

Glinda nodded. "I won't," she said, though she was wondering what kind of cryptic warning was _that_?

"Best get inside," Chistery said. "Wouldn't do to be late on your first day. Madame Morrible does not tolerate anything but punctuality for the first assembly."

He climbed back onto the carriage, and Glinda didn't know how she hadn't realized he was an Ape before, the fluid way he moved.

Glinda clutched her trunk tighter in her hands and headed up the long walk to the Academy entrance. The sound her shoes made on the cobblestones was oddly satisfying.

And then—

Lightning sparked overhead and Glinda found herself caught in a downpour, rain coming down suddenly, in sheets, drenching her before she had time to react, to realize. She picked up her trunk and ran down the cobblestones, nearly slipping. By the time she'd reached the stone archway she was soaked. She muttered a quick spell to attempt to dry herself, but all she managed to do was steam her clothing.

"Hell and Oz," she whispered. She grasped the bronze handle of the doors to the entranceway and pulled, and the doors creaked open and Glinda stepped foot inside Shiz.

* * *

Her footsteps echoed on the marble floor, a great grandfather clock by the staircase telling her she was a few minutes late. Chistery's words echoed in her head, and she shivered.

Where was she supposed to go? The hallway was empty, the chime of the clock the only thing filling the space. "Hello?" she called, and her voice echoed. She'd been given no instructions, only a time to arrive and a vague knowledge that there was an assembly. Was she just supposed to know these things?

Mechanical whirring caught her ear, and she turned. A golden TikTok thing was speeding towards her, and she squealed as it came to a halt.

It didn't speak. Its eyes were glass, staring slightly past her. It creeped Glinda out, but she tried not to show it.

"Where do I go?" she asked, then felt foolish. Surely it wouldn't answer, surely it couldn't understand her.

The TikTok turned and she picked up her bag, unsure of if she was supposed to follow. She hesitated, but when it stopped only a few feet ahead of her and whirled around again, she followed it, footsteps echoing on the marble floor.

She followed the mechanism down so many hallways she lost count—how had the other girls found the place for the assembly, anyway?—until they came to an ornate stone door which Glinda could tell immediately was from the early Lurlinist period. The faces carved into the stone stared menacingly down at her, and she shivered.

What kind of a school was this?

The machine knocked on the door, which swung open almost immediately. Glinda moved to step inside, but the machine blocked her way, one of its spindly arms reaching out for her bag.

"No," she said, thinking of the brochure tucked at the bottom, "I need this."

"Grommetik knows which room to take your things to," said a deep voice behind her, and Glinda jumped, turning.

A woman stood behind her—no, towered might be a better word. She was dressed in a rich burgundy velvet that made her look oddly like a curtain, though Glinda would have never dared say this to the woman's face. On the subject—her face was wide, her eyes wider apart still, giving her a pale, fishy look. She had no lips to speak of, though Glinda could see the outline of the dark red lipliner she'd used in an attempt at drawing them in herself.

"G-grommetik?" squeaked Glinda, and instantly regretted it. This was the kind of woman who would take any amount of weakness Glinda showed and use it against her, she could tell that much just from looking at her.

The thing whirred at the mention of its name, taking its place by the woman's side. Glinda tried very, very hard to not show any fear on her face.

"You're late for the assembly, dear," the woman said. "I don't like taking my time to have to fetch my students."

It clicked, then, who this woman was. Madame Morrible. The head of Shiz Academy. Oh Oz, she hadn't wanted to embarrass herself, yet here was the head in front of the school standing before her, knowing Glinda was late.

But why was she here? Had she been sent to fetch her?

Glinda was about to open her mouth to apologize, to say that the carriage had been late, or to complain about the storm. But before she could she heard footsteps down the hall, and the unmistakable sound of wheels.

Madame Morrible turned. A man was coming down the long hallway pushing a wheelchair, a girl sitting in it. From far away she looked frail and timid, yet as she got closer Glinda saw she was sitting straight-backed, a shawl draped elegantly about her shoulders.

"Apologies, Meilyr," the man said, and Glinda dropped her gaze. If the man was important enough to be able to address the Head by her first name, then Glinda would have to wait to address him.

"No worries, Frexspar, we're delighted Miss Nessarose is able to join us this year," Morrible said. Glinda couldn't see her facial expressions but she could hear the smile in the head's voice. "I trust you found your way?"

"Quite," Frex said. The Head gave a murmur of approval. "It wasn't difficult. Are we to head to the chapel for the opening?"

"I was just on my way," the Head said. "Miss Arduenna and I would be quite pleased to accompany yourself and Miss Nessarose."

"I must head home," the man said, looking at Morrible almost... sheepishly, Glinda thought. "Sermons won't write themselves."

"Of course. We'll be happy to see to your daughter. It was good to see you again, Frexspar," she said, and as the man left Morrible turned on her heel and walked down the corridor, clearly expecting Glinda and—Nessarose, was it?—to follow.

Glinda started off down the hallway, but a sound came from behind her that stopped her—a cough. She turned. Nessarose was sitting primly in her chair. Glinda had expected her to follow her, too, even to wheel herself, but as she peered closer...

"Oh!" she exclaimed, hopefully soft enough the other girl had not heard. The shawl draped around her shoulders wasn't only for looks, but to disguise the fact she had no arms.

"Did you... want me to push you?" Glinda asked.

"If you wouldn't mind," Nessarose said, though how she would have gotten down the hallway if Glinda had minded, she didn't know.

Glinda walked up behind Nessa's chair and began to push, the chair gliding easily on the stone floor. She wondered, then, about the lack of arms, though she never would have dared ask. Was it genetic? Some sort of defect? Had she had an accident as a child? A man back from Glinda's town had no leg, but she'd seen the doctors there build a contraption out of gears, a sort of mechanical leg, so the man could walk unassisted-and if he was wearing pants, you'd never know it was there.

But maybe Nessa had her own reasons for not trying such contraptions. Surely it wasn't because of money, if she could afford to attend Shiz. And by the elegant work on her chair, the subtle gold flaking in the wood, she could definitely afford it.

As if sensing her thoughts, Nessarose inclined her head. "You're wondering about my chair."

"I…"

"Everyone does," the girl said. Her voice was thin and reedy, yet, Glinda could hear a strength underneath it, a wire pulled taut. "This body is mine created by the Unnamed God. To tamper with it, to add to it, would directly blaspheme His design."

"Even if it makes things easier?"

Nessarose coughed again, yet this time, Glinda could tell it was meant to be derisive. "Ease is for those who have no faith."

"But you have to have others do things for you."

"What, and I should be striving for independence? That's not what a woman is designed for." She lifted her chin. "Are you religious, Miss…"

"Glinda. And no, I'm… I was raised in the church, but it's… been awhile."

"Hm," Nessarose said again, but she fell silent as Glinda wheeled her down the dark hallway.

The chapel in which the assembly was held was the same stone as the gates out front, a dark, imposing color. Glinda thought it may not have been the best idea architecturally to use the same, but then again, the chapel looked as though it had been built long before the school, so perhaps that was what had been available.

She and Nessarose filed into the back. Glinda took her seat on a pew, and already could feel so many pairs of eyes on her, could hear the whispering of the other girls.

Oddly enough, none of it seemed directed at Nessarose, whom Glinda was sure would have been the source of much attention. Then again, Madame Morrible hadn't acknowledged how late she was, had only done so pleasantly, in fact.

Already she was beginning to get a sense of the hierarchy around Shiz Academy, then.

The Head stood at the podium, and Glinda shifted uncomfortably in her seat. She couldn't see Grommetik, and she desperately hoped it had deposited her things in her room like she'd wanted.

"Welcome to another year here at Shiz," Madame Morrible said, and Glinda realized with a sinking feeling that the girls in front of her were sitting according to their year and major. So she had already lost out on an opportunity for social advancement—not even advancement, just fitting in.

Oz.

But she wasn't leaving. She'd made that promise to herself. She'd stick it out. Girls had been cruel to her and loved her in turn at home, and any tricks they played, she could play better. Her mother had been reminding her of her own station since she was a small child. She knew the games of manipulation and trickery well, and more importantly in a school like Shiz, she knew how far ahead talent could get you.

And she was talented, everyone at home had told her so. So.

Morrible went on about the school and its history, almost word-for-word from the brochure Glinda had memorized. How classes began on the first day of the week, giving the girls only one night to get fully settled in. How intensive Shiz was, and how there was no room for error—but how well previous graduates had done.

How if these girls could make it in Shiz, they could make it anywhere in Oz. Morrible herself had been a Shiz graduate, after all, though no one could quite recall what she'd studied.

Glinda wiped her sweaty palms on her dress. Morrible hadn't said a word about their schedule, and she hoped to the Unnamed God it wasn't one of those things she was just supposed to intrinsically know again.

Strict schedules for the first week. Classes, a long break for the weekends, three meals a day at the proper times. Things would grow lax a bit, especially for the music students, once rehearsals started.

Glinda swallowed and looked around. Already the girls in front of her had their heads bent together, whispering about roles and parts. Already she could see their outfits were far more lavish than hers, their manner with each other easy, their knowledge of what place they were in exact.

She was going to survive.

She had to.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter Two**

When Madame Morrible's assembly was over Glinda filed out with the other students, leaving Nessarose behind. Sure, she felt a little guilty, but the girl wasn't her responsibility—and surely with a condition like that she'd have someone to mind her. Perhaps an Ama who hadn't arrived yet?

Glinda joined the crowd of other girls walking under the stone archway, hoping somehow that she could spot the girls in her year. They'd make a joke about how she was late, whisper _did you really get escorted by Morrible_ to her, both shocked and awed at her already.

Yes, that was exactly how it was going to go, she knew it.

But as they made their way down the winding hallways again, no girl dared to meet Glinda's eyes. In fact, they looked away and whispered as soon as she caught their gaze.

The hallways gave way to a spacious passage, and Glinda realized they were gradually sloping upwards—had they been underground? Surely the chapel wasn't, but maybe the passageway had been.

Oz, how was she ever going to keep all of this straight in her head?

They all filed into a lushly carpeted room, a glimmering chandelier hanging overhead. For a moment all of the girls were stunned looking at it, and Glinda knew somehow that the awe of that chandelier wasn't lost on even the older girls who'd been at Shiz before.

"You think that's impressive, wait til you see the one in the opera house," an older girl said, leaning against a column and yawning. She caught Glinda's eye and winked. Her dark hair was pulled back in a cascading twist, her rich brown skin complemented by a navy traveling cloak.

Glinda felt her mouth go dry. "There's an opera house?"

"Of course," the girl said. "We're in the entrance to it now. Didn't you read about it on the brochure?"

Glinda's cheeks colored. Of course she had read about it; but mostly to study up on the style—Neo-Classical, of the Ozma period. It hadn't fully crossed her mind that that was where the music students would be studying—where she would be, as a voice student.

"I didn't think we'd be so close," Glinda said. "I can barely keep this place straight."

"You'll get used to it," the girl said. "The spellwork students always find ways to make it a little easier on all of us, once the semester starts—they conjure up maps that'll appear if you tap a painting in the right spot, or a door will be able to tell you directions if you ask nicely."

"How nice," Glinda said, wondering if she would be one of those students.

The girl shook her head. "But where are my manners, of course—I'm Leroux Einion. I'm from the Vinkus. Voice major, though of course this is my last year."

"Glinda Arduenna," Glinda said, shaking the girl's hand. "From Gillikin. Voice as well, I suppose, though I did get admitted on spellwork, too."

Leroux's eyes widened. "So you're the one everyone's been discussing, then. It's unusual to have a student admitted from Gillikin, and for two subjects; Morrible must think very highly of you."

Glinda's cheeks colored. "She may not after this morning; I showed up late and she had to escort me."

"Did you get yelled at?"

Glinda frowned. "No..."

"Then she thinks highly of you," Leroux said, laughing. Her laugh was loud, boisterous, and more than a few heads turned. Yet the stares they gave this time seemed envious rather than suspicious; perhaps Leroux was someone Glinda ought to know.

Yet Glinda couldn't help feel that Morrible hadn't been thinking highly of her so much as wanting to use her. The way Morrible had looked at her...

She looked down at the carpet, at the way her shoes sunk into it. They were the best pair she owned, patent leather from a real Ox, her mother had said, yet next to the way the other girls here were dressed, they looked too gaudy. A girl playing dress-up.

"What do they have us all in here for?" Glinda asked Leroux, just so she could keep her thoughts from wandering. "If this is the entrance to the opera house?"

"The dorms are here, too," Leroux said. "It's all connected, a series of passageways and stairs. You'll get used to it soon enough. But all of the voice majors live closest to the opera house anyway, so. You'll see them separating us out by study soon—I wonder which one you'll be?"

"I don't know," Glinda replied. "No one's told me. Where I'm supposed to be, at least."

 _They haven't told me anything else_ , she thought, but didn't say it out loud. She wondered then somehow if the school was designed to be as difficult for her specifically.

But no. That was ridiculous, surely they weren't trying to hide anything from her. Who was she, anyway? Just a girl. She meant nothing.

"I mean," Glinda continued, "I feel like I'd rather be with the music students anyway. That's more of why I got accepted. My spellwork is shoddy."

Leroux nodded. "I'd like to have you around."

Glinda blushed, and she prayed Leroux couldn't tell. She'd always had this problem around girls. Pretty girls. Any girl.

A knot formed again in her stomach. The last time she'd expressed any sort of attraction to a girl, well... her mother hadn't spoken to her for an entire month, and her father had pretended it hadn't happened at all.

"Students!" Morrible's voice called, and all of the girls turned. She was standing at the top of the entrance (how had she gotten there? And without any of the girls noticing?) "Listen closely as I call your studies, you'll follow your prefects to your dormitories."

The girls all whispered amongst themselves. Glinda caught a glimpse of Nessarose, that shiny bronze hair. What was she studying?

"Do you know about her?" Glinda whispered to Leroux, inclining her head towards Nessarose.

Leroux's eyes widened. "You mean the governor's granddaughter?"

Glinda frowned. "She is?"

Leroux modded. "She grew up around here. Nessarose Thropp."

"But..." Oz, she knew it was an insensitive, question, one her mother would highly disapprove of. "What about her legs?"

Leroux frowned and followed Glinda's gaze to Nessarose in her chair.

"She has a muscular disorder, I think," Leroux said slowly. "It's worsened over time. When she was a kid, she used to run all over this place, or so people say. She can still walk, it's just-easier for her with the wheelchair, sometime."

Glinda nodded. "Thank you for telling me. But... how did you know?"

Leroux shrugged. "Some things you just find out, if you listen enough."

The smile on her face made Glinda think that whatever Leroux knew, whatever secrets she was hiding, Glinda would do well to keep her by her side.

Glinda was sorted in with the music students, much to Leroux's delight. The girls shuffled off to their respective rooms, and Glinda was grateful that her parents had paid for a private room, at least this time. She supposed it was the only real perk of their fear of her liking women. She wanted to tell them that it didn't mean she was going to kiss every girl she saw, but at least she got to be alone out of it.

Nessarose, it turned out, had filed away with the other Theology students. There were only a handful of girls, and they'd all immediately turned to look at Nessarose as if she were some sort of prophet.

Glinda had swallowed. The governor of Munchkinland's granddaughter. How in Oz had she not known?

And what kind of relationship did her family have with the school, anyway, for her to have grown up here? Though Glinda suspected it might be less of a relationship and more of a financial tie.

But it wouldn't do to be suspicious; her mother had always said she thought more than was good for her.

Glinda sighed and locked the door of her room behind her. It was a standard room, and in truth she was a little disappointed, because she had expected the rooms at Shiz to be nicer. But the bed was soft enough, the covers all too inviting after her journey, and as promised her things were set at the foot of her bed.

She went to her trunk, digging around past frilly clothes and undergarments and the scads of makeup she'd managed to smuggle past her mother. She'd hang her things up later, properly organize, but for now…

The photos on the brochure were as bright as the day she'd first received it, promising glamour and grandeur and academia. It was more booklet than brochure, and she flipped through until she found the page she wanted.

 _Architectural Studies_

Oz, she could see the clean lines of the buildings still, even where her fingers had rubbed away the ink. Her class schedule was tucked in the back of her book; all first-year girls had pre-selected courses by major, with room for one elective should they so choose. She'd written her choice in in secret, asked Ama Clutch to mail it in.

 _Introduction to Ozian Architecture: Lurlinist Period_

The words looked to her like a promise, more so than _Vocal Theory_ or _Beginning Spellwork._ She imagined herself designing buildings she would be proud to stand in, that would make others whisper in awe, look at her for her brains rather than just her voice.

Oz, she hoped it would be possible. In the glamour and light of Shiz, she thought it might be.

She tucked the book under her pillow and changed into her nightgown, admiring herself in the mirror. She hummed a few notes of an old Unionist hymn to herself as she ran a brush through her hair, and she felt someone else was humming along with her, their voice in perfect harmony with hers.

But of course, it was just her imagination.

It had to be.


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter Three**

She woke while it was still dark out. Something had woken her. Which was a shame, because her dreams had been so pleasant. Half-formed things with music she couldn't remember now.

She dressed by candlelight, still not trusting the electric lights of her room, more modern than at her own home.

The clock on her nightstand told her classes didn't start for another hour, yet she wondered if it was too early to go down and hunt for breakfast. She figured she'd give herself the time anyway, since the school seemed to be built like a labyrinth.

She dressed in one of her nicer dresses, a pale pink, and quickly curled her hair using a spell she'd worked out herself. She hoped to make a good impression, at the very least, a better one than she had seemed to make yesterday. She hoped she'd at least find some opportunity today to get to know the other girls in her major, or the ones worth knowing. Now that she was among girls who shared her interests, perhaps... perhaps she'd be able to have a friend.

Oh, but friends were a luxury she couldn't afford, especially not somewhere as cutthroat as Shiz. At the least she could enhance her own social station, her mother would be happy about that.

Yes, that was what she would do. She would find the girls worth knowing and seek them out, become acquaintances with them, learn the secrets of the school and make it her own. It was only her first year, after all. What more could she want?

And there were secrets, she knew that much. There were things hiding in those long corridors and passages, and she wanted to learn them all.

But first, breakfast.

Glinda suspected the spellwork students had already begun their magic; the dining hall was subsequently much easier to find than she'd thought. There were buffets of hot food, and only a few other students around. Glinda's mouth watered at the smells.

Back home, her Amas had always cooked for her, or a servant. The buffet style here was new, but she found herself almost drooling over all of the possibilities. Three different kinds of eggs! Including one, she saw, from an ostrich (Oz she hoped it wasn't an Ostrich,) a hot oatmeal filled with spices that made her mouth water, rows and rows of fresh fruit that wasn't in season yet looked like it had been freshly harvested.

She didn't even know where to start.

"I'd go for the oatmeal," a voice said next to her, and Glinda jumped. It was Leroux, appearing seemingly out of nowhere. "Trust me, you'll want something that sticks more than just fruit."

"Thanks," Glinda said, and reached for the spoon. But Leroux gently touched her arm, and Glinda felt some sort of electricity zing through her at that.

"The servants will get it," she said, in a voice that had perhaps uttered that phrase thousands of other times. Not in a proud way, just in a way that was used to being shown respect.

"Oh," Glinda said, and looked at the girl across from her. Her straw-colored hair was tied into a knot on the nape of her neck, her head covered by a kerchief. "Um. Oatmeal please," she said.

The girl nodded and handed Glinda her bowl, looking her in the eye and smiling briefly before bowing her head again.

"She's a sprachlos," Leroux said as they walked away. Glinda frowned at her. "You know, the voiceless?"

"Oh," Glinda whispered. She knew. Girls with undesirable reputations, girls who had accused men of awful things, rumor was in some old parts of Oz their tongues were cut out. She'd never heard of it happening in Gillikin, and she thought, perhaps naively, that it could not happen in Shiz, so close to the Emerald City.

But perhaps that girl wasn't even from the Emerald City. The diminuitive features would suggest Munchkinland, though her ruddy cheeks could have just as easily been Quadling Country.

"How..." Glinda swallowed, her own tongue sticking in her throat. "What happened to her?"

Leroux shrugged. "Dunno. She's been here since I started."

"Do you know her name?" Glinda asked, curiosity getting the better of her.

"I think it's Meg," Leroux said. "Though I could be wrong." She nudged Glinda. "How's your first morning at Shiz going?"

"If the food is any indication, it's going to go well," she said, swallowing down her guilt at how quickly Leroux could change the subject. "What's your first class?"

"I have private lessons," Leroux said. "And preparation for the auditions for the Winter Showcase."

"I didn't know they did that."

"For seniors, they do," she said. "Apparently a lot of scouts from Oz come to that Showcase. They want to give us seniors our best chance, particularly if we're all vying for a solo. Though even for younger girls it's supposed to be quite an opportunity-showing your voice off in front of some of the masters of Oz."

"How many spots are there?"

"That's the thing," Leroux said. "Historically there have only been six. Rumor's been floating around since you arrived they'll be adding seven."

Glinda's cheeks colored. "Me?"

"Apparently, you're that good," Leroux said. "Though to be honest, I wouldn't bet on it. Not-not even trying to be rude, but even as talented as I'm sure you are, Morrible wouldn't dare risk giving a spot to an underling girl. The seniors would revolt, and there's competition enough among them."

"Oh," Glinda said. And for a minute, the bubble of elation that had sprung up in her chest popped, but only for a moment. Her voice was what had gotten her to Shiz, sure, but the more she thought about it the more she wondered if it was really what she wanted to keep her there.

She thought again of the music she'd heard, the song in her head she'd woken up with. She wished she could remember it, wished desperately for that melody to come back, but no matter how hard she tried all throughout breakfast, it never came back.

She was remarkably on time to class, even early by her own standards (and she could hear her mother's voice in her head saying how proud she was that Glinda was going to make a good first impression,) though she wasn't the first student. Her beginning Voice seminar was held in one of the old rehearsal rooms adjacent to the opera house, so close to the dorms Glinda wondered if it was another act of sorcery.

It was a small classroom, wooden floors and paneled walls for optimal acoustics, though the piano sitting in the corner looked like it could have come from Lurlinist days. Glinda hoped desperately it was in tune.

There was a group of girls in the far corner already, girls Glinda recognized from the assembly that morning. There were three of them, their heads bent together, seemingly already knowing each other. The pale girl whose back was to Glinda had long, light brown hair and a rich green dress that suggested Emerald City style. To her right stood a girl with deeply tan skin and black hair, close-cropped and wound into tight curls. Her dress was plainer than the girl next to her, but still nice-Vinkan, maybe? And the girl to the left had blonde hair almost as fair as Glinda's own, woven back into two intricate plaits, pale skin with red undertones. Her dress was the nicest of all of them, even Glinda could see that immediately. It was a shimmering midnight blue, and by all accounts should have been too fancy for Shiz, but on her it looked right.

They all turned when Glinda came in, chattering immediately ceasing. Glinda felt like they were a pack of hyenas, all shiny teeth and smiles, but they would rip her in two if she crossed them. She felt even more self-conscious then about her dress, her hair, about fitting in and living up to the standards Shiz had set.

What was she doing? She didn't belong here.

The middle girl, the tall pale one, strode towards Glinda and stuck out her hand. "Shenshen, of Phan Hall," she said. She didn't wait for Glinda's response, just took her hand and shook it—perhaps a little too hard? "And this is Milla, of The Lesser Kells," the curly-haired girl to Shenshen's right, "and Pfannee, of Nest Hardings." The girl in the expensive dress.

The other girls didn't move, though Glinda saw them exchange a glance.

"Glinda, of Gillikin," she said.

"Oh, we know," Pfannee purred, and she and Milla dissolved into giggles. "So tell us, are you going to magick us silent?"

Glinda's cheeks flamed. Magick, spellwork—she'd thought these things would be accepted at Shiz, even if they were still looked at sideways within the greater city of Oz. Apparently these girls were from some of the more conservative families.

Glinda was saved a response by Madame Morrible sweeping into the room. She swallowed. She hadn't realized the Head would be teaching this course, would be overseeing the first-years. She'd thought she was too important for that.

More girls had filed in, and Glinda took a seat in the back, hoping to not call attention to herself. Pfannee, Milla, and Shenshen all sat together, each occasionally turning back to look at Glinda before dissolving into silent laughter again.

Morrible went through and explained how the semester would work, and their classes.

"I would like to officially put the rumor to rest about the Winter Showcase," she said, and each girl's head snapped up to look at her. "There will be, in fact, _seven_ positions open this year. Only one is open to an underclassman. We'd like to give some of you a chance to be seen. Whoever is chosen for the Showcase will receive private tutoring from myself and Dr. Rafael, one of the best vocal teachers in the Emerald City."

Chatter broke out among the girls again. Dr. Rafael was considered not only the best vocal teacher in the Emerald City, but perhaps the best in the entire land of Oz. Even Glinda, who at this point wasn't so bent on her voice, felt a little leap of hope in her chest.

To be noticed like that, to be special… Oz, it would be so wonderful.

Morrible waved her hand and the talk died at once.

"I'd like to get an assessment of your vocal range before we start," she said. "And as you may have guessed, I will not be teaching this class this semester—Professor Engels will. But I thought it important for me, as your Head, to be here on the first day. I consider myself a great nurturer of talent," here she paused for dramatic emphasis, "and am thrilled to see all that our school has to offer. Up first—Miss Arduenna?"

Glinda felt her hands shake. Logically, she told herself that she was going first because of her last name, clearly Morrible was going in alphabetical order, but it still felt like some sort of test, some way for Morrible to show her how much she knew about Glinda.

Glinda stood and walked down to the front of the classroom, head held high as she passed Shenshen and the others, who immediately broke out into whispers again. A young woman sat at the piano—Professor Engels, perhaps?—and nodded at Glinda.

"Vocal exercises first, then I assume you're familiar with the traditional Gillikinese aria _Longing?_ " Morrible asked.

"Yes ma'am," Glinda said. She cleared her throat, and the pianist began a range of scales—simple enough for Glinda to keep up with. She sang softly at first, but as the notes grew higher she felt her voice wanting to stretch to its full potential, and so she did. She soared on the high notes, even though they were scales, pushing her voice as high as it would go.

Oh, she did love this. She loved architecture, and felt she knew it in her bones, but there was something about singing that did make her soul feel at peace.

And then the aria. It started off simply, it was one Glinda had heard growing up in her childhood. While not technically difficult, there was so much emotion inside it that one really had to pay attention to when singing. Because the aria it self was so simple, if the meaning was lost, it could quickly slip into the territory of being boring.

But if there was one thing Glinda knew about, it was longing. Wanting. Hoping a lover or someone would still remember you when you were gone.

She landed on that last high note and held it, controlling her voice until the end when she let it quietly fade.

Glinda opened her eyes. The entire room had gone silent. Even the three girls who'd been bothering her earlier were staring at her with a mixture of jealousy and awe.

Was this what it was like to feel admired? Special?

"Marvelous," Madame Morrible said, her voice booming throughout the space, and Glinda smiled. "Absolutely marvelous, my dear. One would think you've been blessed with the voice of Ozma herself."

Warmth spread throughout Glinda at the praise.

If this was what it was like to feel special, to feel admired, then she never wanted to let go of the feeling.

She took her seat, settling in to listen to the rest of the girls. One by one the other girls came up and sang, and Glinda felt a stirring of pride at the fact that no one, _none_ of them were as good as she was.


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter Four**

As soon as class was over Milla, Pfannee, and Shenshen flocked to Glinda. Never mind their earlier snubbing of her, never mind that she didn't come from the right family or wear the right outfit. Glinda was _talented,_ and at Shiz, she was coming to learn, that counted for more than she'd anticipated.

The girls eagerly followed her through the hallways, though Glinda noticed Shenshen still walked ahead of her, determined to stay in front.

That was fine with Glinda. She didn't know where they were going precisely, anyway. Her schedule had mentioned a lunch block, and although she knew it would be in the same place they'd had breakfast that morning, she'd be damned if she could find her way back there by herself.

Once they entered the dining hall she spotted Leroux, who caught Glinda's eye and waved at her. Shenshen spotted her too and turned back to Glinda.

"Well?" She asked. "Are you coming?"

Glinda frowned. This, too, was something new she hadn't quite figured out yet—the hierarchy of where to sit at Shiz. She'd sat with Leroux that morning, but now that Milla, Pfannee, and Shenshen were trying to be friends with her…

Then again, Leroux had actually been _nice_. Leroux had spoken to her before she'd known she was talented. And that counted for more, to Glinda. She knew she'd told herself that morning she was going to seek out girls worth knowing, but Leroux _had_ been here longer than the other girls, and was bound to know more than Pfannee or Shenshen.

But her mother's voice floated into her head again, talking of social graces and Glinda's need to make friends above her station.

So she shot Leroux an apologetic look and headed towards the other girls. She could feel envious eyes on her as she walked to sit with Shenshen, Milla, and Pfannee, sealing her decision.

She flashed Leroux an apologetic smile as she took her seat, which Leroux returned. Maybe she understood, Glinda thought—wished. Maybe she knew what it was like, the social climbing of Shiz. She had to know, didn't she? That was how she had survived so long, after all.

"You were marvelous, Glinda," Shenshen purred, like an hour ago she hadn't been judging everything Glinda was wearing.

"As were you—especially you, Milla," Glinda said to the girl across from her. Milla's voice was a rich, low alto, one Glinda had enjoyed listening to.

"Thank you," the girl said, surprised, not used to being complimented.

One by one they rose to retrieve their trays and lunches; Glinda smiled at Meg as she ladled her out a stew. Meg looked away.

When they had all settled at the table again, the talk turned to their studies. Pfannee and Shenshen were both voice majors—or would be, if they survived the first year; Milla, to Glinda's surprise, was studying piano.

"Voice is required for music students regardless, but I'm much more comfortable out of the spotlight," Milla said. She smiled softly at Glinda. "I'd love to accompany you sometime."

Glinda felt her cheeks warm.

"Where did you say you were from?" She asked Milla.

"The Vinkus," Milla said. She jerked her head. "Same as Leroux, though her family is of a much higher station than mine."

"Ah," Glinda said. The Vinkus' hierarchy was a mystery to her; it was a matriarchal society so unlike where Glinda had grown up.

Milla and Shenshen's heads turned towards the entrance to the cafeteria, and Glinda followed their gaze. The theology students were walking in, eyes downcast, Nessarose's chair among them. With a shock Glinda realized Nessa's chair was moving of its own accord, and her sour face suggested she wasn't fond of that.

"What…" Glinda started, but quieted as Morrible walked in behind the girls. The Head in the dining hall?

 _She_ was the one moving the chair, Glinda realized. Through some kind of sorcery, or magic.

Had Nessa agreed to that? Then again, she had grown up on the grounds, maybe that was how it had always been. It made sense to Glinda.

But she couldn't get the look on Nessa's face out of her head.

The other girls were staring too, open-mouthed, and Glinda wondered if their mothers hadn't taught them to be more polite.

"I didn't think she'd actually come," Shenshen said, and Glinda turned to her.

"Hm?"

"Nessarose." Shenshen jerked her head towards the other girl. "You know she grew up here."

"Why would that mean she couldn't attend?" Glinda asked.

"Well... look at her," Pfannee jumped in, lowering her voice. "Shiz is such a demanding place... I wonder if she'll fit in?"

"You know her father's donating, that's probably why she's here."

"Her grandfather's the governor," Glinda chimed in, and the other girls looked at her.

"We _know,_ " Pfannee said, and Glinda's cheeks heated up. "It's probably the only reason she can afford to be here."

"It's a wonder her family still has money," Shenshen said. Glinda looked at her questioningly. "The mother died in childbirth with Nessa. Apparently they'd had another child, before, but something was _wrong_ with it, so the mother drowned it. Nessarose was their second chance, and you can... well, you can see how she turned out. Since she was born, the father's gone a bit..." Shenshen said. "Or so the rumors go."

Glinda thought of the man she'd seen yesterday. "You can't tell."

"They say he thinks his other child is still alive," Milla whispered, finally contributing. "They say the ghost of her mother wanders the grounds at night, looking for it. You'll hear things, too, if you aren't careful. And with parents like that, it must run in the family," she added thoughtfully.

Glinda stole another glance at Nessarose. Her face was back to being composed, another lacy shawl draped artfully across her body to hide the lack of arms. She didn't seem mad. She seemed, on the contrary, more poised than any of the girls Glinda was sitting with.

"What kinds of things have people heard?" Glinda found herself asking, thinking of the music that had floated through the walls.

"Oh, wails and cries, a baby, that sort of thing," Pfannee said airily. "If you ask me it's all nonsense. Why would the woman haunt _Shiz?_ It's not like she drowned her child here."

Glinda shivered, but the other girls didn't notice. She wondered, what other sorts of things haunted Shiz, other than dead women with missing children.

What other secrets were hidden in the walls?

Glinda wanted to know. She hated being left out, hated not knowing.

She went back to her food but found she didn't have an appetite. Her gaze flitted back to Nessa, whose back was to her. She was at a table with the other Theology students.

Morrible was nowhere to be seen.

Glinda's next class was spellwork. She parted ways with the three other girls, ignoring their snide comments about magic.

She was nervous, much more so than she had been before her voice class. But her voice was something she was confident in.

Magic? Not so much. Her spellwork exams had been all right, she knew she'd excelled on the written exam but she also knew her practical had left much to be desired.

She found a desk near the front, pulling out a roll of parchment and a pen. Morrible breezed into the room, and Glinda found herself shuddering.

"Miss Glinda," she said. "Thank you again for that beautiful display of musical mastery this morning. I do hope your spell work is half as good as your voice."

Glinda swallowed. "Of course, madame."

The rest of the students filed in, and to Glinda's surprise, Milla was among them.

"I didn't think you'd be interested in spellwork," she said before she could stop herself. Milla paused at her desk.

"Just because the other girls look down on it doesn't mean I do. Spellwork can have practical uses," Milla sniffed. "Mending clothing or tidying around the house. Practical things."

"I thought you would have servants for that," Glinda said, and Milla's face flushed.

"Not all of us are as well off as you," she said, leaning into Glinda's space. Her eyes met Glinda's, who could feel her face heating. She wanted to say she wasn't well off, she'd fought tooth and nail to be here, especially from Gillikin. "You think Shiz wanted more students from the Vinkus? Do you know how hard I worked to get here? I suspect Leroux leaving is the only reason they let me in; so they could keep their _quota._ " She spit the last two words.

Glinda sat in stunned silence. Milla turned on her heel and walked to a desk in the far corner, pulling a notebook out of her bag and writing, her head bent low.

She wanted to say something. Apologize. She was about to when Morrible rapped on the chalkboard with her knuckles.

"Magic," she began in her great, booming voice. She surveyed the students in front of her. The classroom was small, only four girls to Glinda's right and five rows behind her. They were all first years, and Glinda got the sense that all of them were afraid of Morrible and trying very hard not to show it.

"Spellwork is more than incantations and formulas," Morrible continued. She looked at each of them. "It's _emotion_ and _feeling._ You have to believe the spell you're casting once you've perfected the formula. Magic without emotion is weak. Magic with emotion… it's limitless."

Glinda shivered again, but this time from excitement.

"We'll begin with a simple spell," Morrible said. "Magic has three principles: Conjuring, changing, and removing. There is a cost, however—one cannot conjure something without giving something _back._ " She paused. "The cost is pain. It is slight, and you can learn to control it, but you cannot create something without offering up something else in return. Be very, very careful using magic to create, my dears—many have been warped by its influence."

"We will begin with removing," Morrible said. "This is the easiest principle to learn. We will only cover conjuring by the end of the year, if and only if you master the first two principles."

Morrible pulled an apple out of her robe and set it on her desk. Glinda half expected Morrible to pull out a wand, like she'd read about in storybooks when she was a child. But she didn't. She just closed her eyes, and waved her hands.

Glinda watched her mouth move but didn't understand the words that came out. And then, the apple that was on her desk simply... disappeared.

The girls broke out in excited chatter immediately. Glinda tried to catch Milla's eye, but the girl pointedly looked away from her.

"Now it's your turn," Morrible said. More apples appeared, one on every girl's desk. Glinda flinched when hers appeared. She reached for it. It smelled normal, like a regular apple, and the scent brought her back to crisp autumns at Gillikin, apple-picking with her family...

"Stand up," Morrible said, and there was the scraping of chairs as each girl stood. "Now. Proper posture is essential to young ladies, especially when magic is involved. Your feet must be firmly planted, arms loose and relaxed, shoulders down..."

Glinda adjusted herself easily, the same posture she took when singing.

"Repeat after me: _verschwind_."

" _Verschwind,_ " Glinda whispered.

Nothing happened. She could hear the delighted gasps of girls around her, girls whose apples had disappeared. She stared at her own in disappointment.

"Verschwind is the imperative form of the old High Ozian _verschwinden,_ to disappear. Like the winds, dears," Morrible was saying. "You must command the object to disappear. You must focus your will, and wish the apple someplace else."

"Where does it go?" Glinda asked. "The apple?"

Morrible blinked at her. "It doesn't matter where it _goes,_ dear," she said, as if Glinda had just asked why Morrible's face looked particularly fish-like. "The point is it disappears."

"But how am I to disappear it if I don't know exactly where it's going?" Glinda persisted, and Morrible clucked.

"One must have faith in magic, Miss Arduenna," Morrible responded, and Glinda winced at the use of her last name, Morrible's way of putting her down a peg. "Try, please."

"Now?" Glinda squeaked, and the other girls all turned to look at her. Morrible nodded.

Glinda widened her stance, staring at the apple in front of her. She screwed her eyes shut in concentration, willed it to disappear.

" _Verschwind,_ " she whispered.

She opened her eyes. The apple was still sitting on her desk. Did it look a little fainter? Glinda couldn't tell.

Morrible patted her shoulder. "A valiant effort, my dear," she said, though there was disappointment in her tone. "Keep trying."

But as hard as Glinda tried, she couldn't make it disappear, not for the rest of class. By the end of the lesson, only she and Milla had apples remaining on their desks.

Glinda headed back to her room early that night, exhausted and defeated. The high of the morning had worn off, and now she only felt tired.

She could see why girls left Shiz, even after their first year. And she knew she wouldn't be one of them, but Oz, she hadn't realized how difficult it would be.

She took her time undressing, combing out her hair in front of the vanity. She hadn't bothered to set her stuff in the adjoining bath yet but now she took her time, laying out various potions and bottles of perfume.

She used a few oils and wiped her makeup off, carefully took her hair down and changed into her softest nightgown. The rituals calmed her, and slowly she felt the tension of the day melting away.

"Verschwind," she whispered, only half-conscious the words had even escaped her lips. She glanced at her perfume bottles, but none of them had vanished.

"Hell and Oz," she said, and tried again. Nothing. Glinda sighed, told herself it was too late to continue trying magic, and finished getting ready for bed, humming to herself as she did so.

She began singing the aria again, the Gillikinese one that had brought her so much attention that morning—had it really only been that morning? Her voice began soft at first then stretched, soared.

This time it was unmistakable—the harmony under hers. There was definitely another voice singing along, lower, richer. Glinda let her voice fade off and the other sound continued, but only for a few seconds, long enough Glinda knew she hadn't imagined it.

"Hello?" She whispered, then immediately felt stupid. Of course no one had been singing along with her.

But she thought again of the rumors she'd heard the girls discussing at lunch, the ghost of Nessa's mother wandering the halls of Shiz. She _was_ near the opera house, and there were so many halls in Shiz, surely...

A ghost wouldn't take the time to harmonize with her.

Glinda began to sing again, if only in the hopes of hearing the other voice. And yes—there it was again. She stopped abruptly, knowing she had only a few precious seconds before the other singer cut out.

Where was it coming from?

Glinda moved around her room, thinking perhaps the voice was coming from outside of it—but it sounded closer than that.

"Hello?" She called again, her voice stronger this time. "I can hear you."

Nothing.

She sang again, letting the notes come out clear, not caring if she was disturbing anyone else on the hall. But the voice didn't answer this time.

"I know you're there," she said.

Oz, was she going crazy? So stressed already from her first day that she was hearing things that weren't there, imagining them?

The lights flickered then, and Glinda shrieked, bracing herself. But Shiz was an old building, with faulty wiring, and these things had to happen.

She waited for the lights to come back on, but they didn't. Glinda sighed, resigned herself to getting ready, and turned back to her mirror.

She blinked when she did, certain this time she really was imagining things. But— no.

The face staring back at her out of the darkness?

It wasn't her own.


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter Five**

Glinda clapped her hand over her mouth to keep from shrieking and waking the entire dorm. She rubbed her eyes, looking back, but the figure was still there.

So not a trick, then. Not Glinda's overactive imagination. Not one of the sorcery students trying to scare the new girl. A real face, staring out at her from the mirror. A face that wasn't her own.

Glinda stepped towards the mirror and suddenly the figure, as if realizing they could be seen, turned and fled.

"Wait!" Glinda called, but there was nothing staring back at her now but her own face.

The lights came back on, and Glinda heard shrieks from the other students, saw her own shocked, pale pink face staring at her.

She _knew_ there had been someone else.

But how did they get back there?

Glinda went to her mirror, ran her hands around the gilded edges. Was it—there! A small latch, just near the bottom where the mirror met the table.

She pressed it, but nothing happened. And Glinda felt foolish, then, her least favorite feeling.

What had she expected? She was tired, she was seeing things. A voice answering her own and a face behind the mirror, those could be explained away. A latch in the mirror that went nowhere. Had she thought it would swing open?

In frustration, Glinda sat down at her vanity, tried to disappear her perfumes again. Nothing worked.

She kicked at the leg of the vanity and it buckled, and she stood, gasping as her perfumes began to slide off.

"Stop!" She yelled, and thrust her hands out, and to her surprise all the perfumes floated midair.

Was it really that easy? Magic?

Glinda let out a breath and watched as the perfumes gently floated back down. She bent down, trying to straighten out the leg—cheap tables in a school they were paying this much money to be in?

Her fingers ran along the floor, looking for a screw, something to hold it in place. As she looked towards the back of the table she saw the remaining legs, bolted in place to the wall.

Bolted to the wall?

She gave a tug at the legs, just to see, and was so surprised when the wall split behind them she nearly lost her footing and fell. Only her grip on the vanity kept her from landing smack on her behind.

But the wall had _opened._ Just a crack, an inch, but enough for Glinda to look in and realize—

There was a passageway behind her room.

She knew what she should do. Rational thought said she should go to bed, just ignore the wall. Rational thought said she should push everything back where it was and just _go to sleep,_ to forget the face she had seen in the mirror.

Oz, it was only her first _day_ at Shiz. It was far, far too early to be caught up in any sort of mystery.

But wasn't this what she had wanted? To know the secrets of this place?

Glinda gently pushed the wall in further, wincing at the scraping of it on the old hardwood floors of her dorm room. It took effort but the wall gave way, and Glinda found herself staring down a long stone passageway.

Did she hear footsteps echoing? Ghostly wails? A baby crying? Or was that all just her own overactive imagination?

She could turn back now. It wasn't too late. She could shut the wall and curl up in bed, report it to the Headmistress the next day and forget she had ever seen it.

Or she could step down and discover the secrets she knew were being kept from her.

Glinda breathed in, breathed out, and took a step forward.

Her footsteps echoed off the stone in the corridor, and she felt her way down the winding stairs. The further down she went the more damp it grew, until she was shivering in her thin nightgown, wishing she'd thought to bring a cloak.

She strained her ears, trying to hear something, but all she heard was her own panicked breathing.

 _Calm down,_ she told herself. _There's nothing to be afraid of._

But she thought back to the stories the girls had told today, the fear she'd felt when she first arrived at Shiz, and she knew there was _plenty_ to be afraid of.

She heard something further down the corridor.

She should have grabbed a shawl. A candle. Something. Something to light her way or to help her in the darkness.

She felt something run past her feet and she shrieked, nearly losing her balance. Her fingers scrabbled for purchase along the cold stone walls, and she dug her fingers in just in time to keep herself from slipping.

She couldn't continue. It was too dark, and she wasn't prepared to face whoever had been behind her mirror.

Curiosity gnawed at her, but she knew it was better to prepare herself rather than continuing to stumble down this dark corridor without any idea of what lay ahead.

And so, her heart still quickly beating in her chest, she turned to go back to her room.

All the next day Glinda restlessly paced through her classes, not even paying attention in architecture, her favorite subject, which was taught by an old Mole. Glinda wondered fleetingly at the start of the lecture what a Mole would know about architecture, as he was blind, but she soon discovered that he knew more than perhaps anyone in the room. For one, he was ancient. Two, his ancestors had helped build all the tunnels under Oz, and so he had an intimate working knowledge of what went into the design of a space.

But when he began going over the history of the era, Glinda's mind wandered. She had to discover what was down there. _Who_ was down there.

There had to be someone. And she didn't necessarily know if she believed it was the ghost of Melena Thropp or someone else entirely, but she knew she had to find out.

She was quiet all through dinner. Her thoughts raced noisily through her head, and she barely touched her stew. She sat alone at the end of one of the tables, lost in her own head, and when she looked up she was surprised to find the hall deserted, only the servants left clearing away the plates. Meg walked over to her, gesturing for Glinda's still-full bowl, and Glinda shook her head.

"I can take it."

Meg frowned, and reached for the bowl again, and this time Glinda let her.

And then a thought struck her. Meg, who had been at Shiz for longer than Glinda—certainly at least as long as Leroux had been there.

"Meg, wait!" Glinda called, and pushed herself back from her table.

The other girl turned as Glinda walked over to her. Up close, Glinda could see she was younger than she had initially thought, perhaps only a few years older than Glinda herself. "Um, can I talk to you?"

Meg looked around. No one was looking at them, all the other girls had gone to Chapel, where Glinda herself was supposed to be. The servants weren't even glancing her way.

Meg set her plates down and pulled a leaf of paper and a pen out of the pocket of her dress. _Not now,_ she scribbled. _Later. Tonight?_

Glinda bit her lip. "But why not right now? Everyone else is at chapel, there's no way they're going to notice we're gone—"

Meg shook her head vehemently. _Not. Now_ she underlined, and Glinda nodded.

 _Meet me here once everyone has gone to bed. Wait ten minutes once the lights go out, then come down. Okay?_

"Okay," Glinda said, and Meg nodded, satisfied, before she turned and walked away from Glinda.

Glinda went back to her room, wringing her hands. She needed to study; already the homework was piling up, and the auditions for the Winter Showcase were fast approaching. She had an aria to learn for voice, music theory as well, and she still hadn't managed to make that damn apple disappear.

But all she could do was sit on her bed and stare at the clock on her wall until it was time to go meet Meg. She didn't even dare try to practice the song, half afraid she would hear the voice again—and half afraid she wouldn't.

At 10, once she was sure the lights had been off for a while, she pushed herself off her bed, making sure to grab her cloak and a small lantern before she left.

She was halfway out her door when she heard it—the music. But this time it didn't seem to be coming from behind her mirror. This time it seemed to be coming from somewhere else, somewhere further down the hallway.

She knew she shouldn't. She had to go meet Meg, who she knew had important information to give her. There was no time to follow the music, no time to discover the source of it.

Besides. She could learn something useful from Meg, something that would potentially help her with figuring out whatever the secrets of Shiz were.

Glinda hurried faster down the hallway, if only so she could resist the temptation to linger and listen. It was a different melody from the night before, and she longed to know what it was.

She turned the hall and headed down the stairs to the dining hall, surprised that she was already beginning to know her way around Shiz, at least this part of it.

She pushed open the heavy oak doors to the entrance, her eyes trying to adjust to the pitch black of the room with the dim light of the corridor still behind her.

Something brushed her elbow and Glinda fought the urge to shriek, but then a hand gripped her, and she knew it had to be Meg.

The older girl lead them both out into the hallway, and Glinda was confused until Meg pulled out her pad and paper, knowing Glinda wouldn't have been able to read it in the dim light.

 _What did you want to talk about?_ she wrote, and held it up for Glinda to see.

Glida's mouth became dry. What had she wanted to talk about? What did she think Meg knew? Hell, why was she even here-because of the rumors and gossip of some girls she barely knew, about a school she had only been at for a few days? The whole thought was absurd, ridiculous.

And yet...

"What do you know about the Thropp family?" Glinda blurted. Meg frowned, and pulled her pen out.

 _Why?_ she wrote.

"I heard the rumors," Glinda said, but the words sounded weak, even to her. "And I figured... you would know, since you've been here..."

Meg shook her head. Underlined _Why_ again, but then scribbled more. Glinda watched her.

 _Why do you care?_

"I've—I've heard music," Glinda said suddenly, blurting it out. "I mean... in the walls. And last night I was practicing and I heard someone else singing, and I saw... I mean I thought I saw a face, behind my mirror—"

Meg stared at her. For a moment Glinda worried if she had gone too far, if she sounded too crazy.

 _Ignore it,_ Meg scrawled, and Glinda stared down at her handwriting.

"You can't be serious. Meg, I _saw_ someone."

 _Forget it,_ Meg wrote again, and looked up at Glinda. There was an expression in her face Glinda couldn't quite place, until she realized—it was fear.

"What do you know?" Glinda whispered, and Meg's hand tightened around her pen, until—

Both girls stiffened. They could hear steps echoing in one of the hallways.

Meg grabbed Glinda's hand and pulled her outside into the hall. The footsteps drew closer, and Glinda let Meg pull her along. She had no idea where they were going, only hoping it was away from the source of the footsteps. When at last Meg shoved Glinda into a small darkened room and shut the door behind them, Glinda allowed herself a sigh of relief.

Meg lit a small candle and Glinda's eyes slowly adjusted. They were in an abandoned classroom; the walls paneled with oak and a piano in a far corner next to a cot.

 _I come here to think,_ Meg wrote, holding up the paper so Glinda could see. _And play._

"You play music?"

Meg nodded.

"You… you're not the voice I've been hearing, are you?" Glinda asked, but the second the words were out of her mouth she felt stupid and useless. Of course the voice wasn't Meg. She had no _tongue,_ for Oz's sake.

"I'm sorry," Glinda said hurriedly, the words rushing out of her mouth. "I didn't—"

Meg held up the sheet of paper that said _Forget it_ and pointed to it.

"Do you know who the voice is, though?" Glinda asked, and Meg's expression changed. Slowly, she nodded. A yes.

"Tell me!" Glinda said excitedly, and she rushed over and grabbed Meg's arm. The smaller girl's eyes filled with fear, and she jerked out of Glinda's grasp, knocking against one of the desks, which made a loud scrape as it was knocked across the floor. Meg's eyes grew wider and before Glinda even had time to say anything else, she pushed past her and ran out of the classroom, leaving Glinda alone and more confused than ever.


End file.
